


Everything we cannot say

by hydriotaphia



Category: Farscape RPF
Genre: F/M, Hand Jobs, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:32:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydriotaphia/pseuds/hydriotaphia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claudia does one of her favourite things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything we cannot say

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Real People Lies. No truth to be found here.

This is your favourite secret: when your hands leave his shoulders and slide down to the button on his fly – and he watches you intently the whole time, his own hands on your back, stopping you from sliding off his lap – when you flick it open, you can slip the tips of your fingers past his waistband and touch bare skin.

 

Ben loves it when you do that, just the light scratch of nails and fingertips against the head of his cock, when you’re both still clothed, still aware, still deciding how far and fast to take this.

 

You wrap two fingers around the glans and pre-cum is slick against your palm. Ben’s breathing against your collarbone, his head’s bent unnaturally low and from this angle you can’t tell if his eyes are closed in pleasure or if they’re open, watching you surround him.

 

He moans a little when your thumb swipes pre-cum in light circles and then he jerks hard when you squeeze. It sounds like ‘Claudia’ on the exhale but you’re not sure. Your left ear is pressed against the top of his head and your right is filled with the sounds of your blood pumping.

 

You wish for a second that he would move, sit back so you could see this too. How his thighs tense and tremble, how the stiff hair of his groin sits flat when he starts to sweat in arousal, how his pants are still pulled up around his hips, just the front flaps splayed open and his cock jutting stiff from it. You’d walked across a room once, naked, while he masturbated in a chair, sitting almost exactly like this, cock thick and hard in the open juncture of his jeans and chest bare, and by the time you got there – all eight steps – you were salivating, ready to gorge yourself on him.

 

He’s heavy against your hand and you don’t do a lot of actual penis-in-vagina fucking because if your trailer started rockin’ people would coming a-knockin’ (he says), and there’s something far more erotic about this.

 

You slide your fist down carefully, making sure the zipper is pushed away from his cock, waiting for the slightest hiss of pain in case you need to stop and adjust him. Every exhale you hear is warm and damp against your skin.

 

When you hit the base, you slip your other hand into his jeans and cup his balls, feeling for where the zipper ends and how much you can manoeuvre without hurting him or yourself.

 

He huffs a laugh. “Getting a little tight.”

 

It is. You’ve got one hand buried between his legs, just the way he likes it: palm pressed against the top of the sac and your fingers brushing gently against his perineum. The other is fisting his cock with long, slow strokes. Every third stroke you rub your thumb at that spot under the glans that makes his eyes roll back, and then continue, twisting a few times around the head because you know it sets his nerves on fire.

 

“Fuck. Claudia.”

 

Sex is like acting. It’s chemistry and body language and partnership and not upstaging the other person, but working together for the good of the whole show. Everything translates to this, the way your bodies feel pressed against each other, and if you didn’t have this, you couldn’t have all the acting and all the joking around. Vaguely you think it should be the other way around but it’s not. There would be too much between you that the other parts of your lives couldn’t channel or contain.

 

If you’re going to do this properly though, you need some lubrication. When you raise your hand to his lips, Ben nips at your fingers, gasps a little as you squeeze his balls in retaliation. He knows well enough what to do and he sucks two fingers into his mouth, lets you explore as though this were a new thing and you’d never felt his teeth on your knuckles or felt the hard pressure of suction before. His head moves up a little and he’s breathing heavily, eyes closed. You pull your fingers out, rub the spit against his cock and go straight back to his mouth for more. You wonder if he can taste himself.

 

You haven’t said a word. You don’t usually. You’re quiet except when you’re using your mouth and not your hands and Ben’s cock is thrusting and twitching against your tongue, your throat; then you whimper and thrash and cry out because he muffles you and the vibrations drive him crazy. Otherwise you bite your lip when you’re fucking Ben and let the words thicken to soft moans instead.

 

“You wet?” Ben asks, looking up at you.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Next time,” he says and grunts hard as you squeeze his shaft once, twice, three times. “Next time, I’m gonna lube up with your wetness.”

 

You close your eyes, imagining it. You both like control, but Ben knows all about your little voyeuristic, exhibitionist tendencies. He’d make you stand in front of him, let you watch him with his hand on his cock, wanking slowly, as his cock flushes with want until the veins bulge and the head glistens.

 

“I’d make you stand in front of me naked,” Ben says in your ear. His words are rough at the edges, frayed by the depth of his arousal, but absolutely coherent. He knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’d jerk off a bit, let you watch me to get you revved up. I always know when you’re ready; I watch your nipples. Then I’d reach out until you got within arm’s length of me and I’d stop you. I’d check your cunt, see how wet you are.” And he says ‘cunt’ because of you, only for you. It’s your second-favourite secret.

 

Your hand is moving faster now, you’re stripping rough and hard, but Ben likes it like that. First time you wanked him, he told you not to be a girl about it. It’s harsher than you’d ever be with yourself, but he also goes commando in denim and doesn’t feel it. You press your middle-finger firmly into the skin behind his balls, and Ben shudders and moans.

 

“You’d be wet, baby, wouldn’t you?” he gasps. You nod.

 

“So wet,” he says and you’ve almost got him there, to that place where words aren't coherent anymore. But perhaps he’s not quite ready to go there because he lifts his head and kisses you then, sharp and sweet, and you lose your rhythm a little. His tongue is in your mouth and it rakes across your teeth, up to your palate, down underneath your tongue, and then it gentles, just brushing against yours, quick licks and long, slow, glides.

 

When he pulls back, you’re connected by a thread of saliva that you barely notice, staring into blue eyes blown wide instead.

 

He says, “I want to fist you,” and the thread breaks. “As far as I can get in you, as many fingers as I can get in you, I want in. Jesus, Claudia. Oh, _God_.”

 

And he comes like that, with the thought of his hand inside you while yours work his cock and balls. When he finally comes up for air, his teeth have left imprints on your shoulder. He moves a hand from your back to rub at the mark ruefully.

 

He’s got cum mostly over himself. A quick swipe of your hand against his stomach cleans away the most obvious spots on you. You’ll wash your hands in a minute but you like this part first – sliding off his lap and pushing his legs apart to mouth at his cock. Ben hisses at the contact and you can hear sensitivity edging into pain but you ignore him. Your mouth covers the head, tongue flicking against the slit and around. He tastes of the last remnants of semen. You breathe out slowly while his cock softens in your mouth and then you suck _hard_ , just once. Ben cries out and slams his hands against his thighs as you pull off and grin up at him.

 

His face is red, which makes the blue of his eyes even more vivid.

 

 “Naked in front of me,” Ben repeats slowly, catching his breath. “And when you’re arm’s length away, I’m gonna stop you. I want to put my fingers in your cunt and pull you closer.”

 

You grin and your jaw is sore from holding back all those words you haven’t said. You hear yourself say, “How long have we got?”

 


End file.
